Dave Hill, B. Lewie, & FatRay100 - Triple 7 Mafia (feat. 4EVAPRO$)

I just go off I don't think
Sprite pussy pink
Buffs with the swirl like I cut em out my sink
Got on off-white drawers and a off-white tee
I'll off dog mellon with this lil' red beam
RTA jeans, 500, but a dub in em
She just need a lil' TLC but you a scrub
So I got it, dead old white niggas fallin' out my pocket
Hit my bitch friend cause I'm toxic
Trio pulled up with a 8, we finna drop it
You better buy a gun, we into it, I ain't boxin
Whites bought a chop, lil' nigga think he Stockton
Treat him just like blackheads, we pull up, get it poppin'
I like Bape and Supreme, Percocet, and lean
Chop like Malcolm X, I ain't Martin, Luther King
Just to pull up on my block in somethin' fast was a dream
Now I stand up in them cats, you can hear the motor scream, nigga
Ain't no hand to hands, I got a spot, but I don't play the block
A whole 50 shots, the Glock full like it ate a lot
I got 30 bows in the mail, 10-8ths of wok
UPS just knocked, go get some turkey bags from Save-A-lot
She gon' make this chicken, she don't talk, she listen
Black bitch, but got some white on her, she a pigeon
Granted you won't see her with no nigga, he ain't trickin
That's why she my baby, she don't do the dummy missions
Hop in the long sleeve, bitch, get off me
The Louis tan and dark brown, it's peanut butter coffee
You don't think I ride with Drake, boy, that's where you lost me
I love the Drake so much, I used to strap it in the car seat
Nigga, you would think the striker run off of Red Bull
I swear this bitch got some wings, we flyin' to the opps hood
I don't even smoke, but they know who I got in my wood
Put they whole block in a fronto if I could, foe
Patek after market, took attachments off it
Wrapped the white bitch up in college, nigga, had her Asher Roth'n
Baby ask me for my number, think she gettin' status off it
Whoa, whoa, yah, yah, man, tell that bitch to back up off me
I got married into money, this a holy matrimony
Put some cheese on his noodle, they'll stir his macaroni
Left his blicky at the crib, know he supposed to have it on him
Back of her like a horse, I had to grab her by the pony
Countin' off the racks until my necklace is tennis
Triple seven mafia, I need extra for a pendant
My presence is a present, like we checkin' the attendance
Drop the key off at the crib, feel like we checkin' in the tenants
Bring the carne asada to me, mi amor
I'm tryna not cop the Pradas, grabbed some Diadoras
Been choppin' with my accountant, bout me needin' lawyers
Tried to leave it alone, but I been needin' more, nigga

Written by:
DaRae Adams, David Hill-Gray, Fredrick Logan

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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